A Different Sort of Vows
by The-Fickle-Lady
Summary: Sansa had once thought that no one would ever marry her for love. She had been correct in her assumptions, but she really couldn't bring herself to be bitter about that fact. Not when she and her love has a different sort of vows binding them together.


ASOIAF

A Different Sort of Vows

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: Sansa had once dismally thought that no one would ever marry her for love. She was correct in her assumption, but she couldn't bring herself to be bitter over that fact. After all, she and her love had different vows binding them together.

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><p>Sansa did not spend much time in the godswoods, nor in the sept her father built for her mother years before. She prayed often enough, more than the head of her royal guard certainly, but less than she had when she was younger. Prayer didn't get much done, she found. Praying for an answer or salvation wasn't going to make it magically appear before her. She had to take action herself to see a reaction, whether it be the one she desired or not. She had learned that a long time ago.<p>

Still, even though prayer served little practical use for her dilemmas, from time to time Sansa found herself pausing in her work—whether it being embroidering a doublet for one of her wards or signing an important document that would lower taxes on the wildling settlements in the Gift—and she'd clasp her hands together, close her eyes, and silently pray. And even though she didn't really know whom she was praying to—the Old Gods? The New? The Red God even?—it was comforting, like a mother's tender kiss to her weeping child's forehead. Thus, Sansa found herself making prayers during her most stressful of moments, when nothing else was within reach that could sooth her irritation or worry.

"Your Grace, are you ill?" Sansa opened her eyes, her prayer for the end of this suitor nonsense coming to an abrupt halt, and restrained a sigh. A young lord stood before her. He was about her age, a Northmen, and handsome in a sort of rugged way. He'd been through much despite his youth, like her and many others their age, and just like her, he'd been thrust into the world of rulership without much preparation thanks to the untimely deaths of his parents a few years prior. His name was Alec, and he had come to seek her hand in marriage.

Alec was made of sterner stuff, Sansa could tell, and there was steely determination in his dark eyes; alas, despite what were sure to be his best efforts to win her favor over the dozens of others who had come seeking the same thing as him, the kingship of her kingdoms, Sansa had no intention of so much as entertaining the thought of wedding him. No matter how many gifts he had brought her or how many stories of his own greatness he boasted in hopes of impressing her.

"Yes," She answered Alec. "I fear my many duties have left me fatigued. I apologize, My Lord, but may we adjourn this audience, and perhaps continue tonight at the feast?" Sansa smiled as Alec nodded, looking mortified for having put even the slightest of strains of his queen's health, most likely thinking he had put a damper on his chances to win her over. Sadly for him, he had had none in the first place. But if Sansa hadn't have changed so much in the last five years, if she was still that same girl who was smitten with Joffrey, she might have been smitten with Alec and he may have had some small chance with her. He was kind, from what she had heard, and polite and strong as well from what she had seen since his arrival an hour beforehand, but sadly, she had no longer had any interest in marrying, whether it be for some illusion of love or land or title.

Sansa dismissed court for the afternoon. Feigning the fatigue she had complained of, she looped her arm through Jaime's and leaned her head sleepily against his armored shoulder as he escorted her back to her bedchamber. Once they passed the threshold and the door closed shut behind them Sansa let the façade slip away as easily as a silk ribbon and took a seat at the foot of her bed. She let out the sigh she'd withheld earlier.

"If only I could just spread a rumor that I am barren and my brothers' children will inherit the throne. That would make this all stop." She complained despondently. The endless queue of suitors was becoming exhausting. Jaime laughed at her expense, apparently as heartless as he was handless. "You only have yourself to blame." He said, though not with any real cruelty. "If only you could have kept your hands off that sheepish squire." He lamented teasingly. Sansa sent him a look, but it was only as sharp as the oldest dull blade in Winterfell's armory. Her cheeks burned. "Go ahead and tease me for my weakness, Ser, but remember whose lapses in judgment have caused the most and worst damage amongst the two of us." She warned the head of her guard. Jaime's smile disappeared, anger, and perhaps even guilt, flashing in his green eyes before vanishing behind a veneer of self-satisfaction. "It appears I've rubbed off on you, Your Grace. The bite of your words is equivalent to that of a lion's jaws now it seems, rather than the peck of a bird's peak." He remarked smugly.

Sansa would have thrown a pillow at Jaime if she didn't know for a fact he'd only laugh and call her childish, which would be true under the circumstances. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him and climbed further up the bed to rest her head on one of the pillows. She breathed in a familiar, comforting scent and smiled. A breathy sigh of contentment escaped her.

Jaime chuckled. Sansa opened her eyes and gave him another sharp look. "What's so funny?" She asked. Jaime shook his head at her fondly as he sat himself down in a chair by the fireplace. "Sometimes, I fancy the idea you are leagues away from that girl I first laid eyes on six years ago. The one that fell for Joff, who my family kept caged like some pet bird, who I pitied really. Moments like these on the other hand remind me that that girl is still in there. Still singing songs and dreaming innocent dreams despite it all." He explained. He smiled genuinely, but with traces of morose. "I haven't decided if I'm happy about that or mortified by it."

Sansa contemplated Jaime's words silently for a moment. "I'm happy about it." She then declared matter-of-factly. Jaime looked surprised. "It means they didn't take _everything_ away from me." She elaborated, smiling to herself and knowing she was right to be glad. Jaime smiled as well. "I suppose that's one optimistic way of looking at it. After having so many hopes and beliefs of yours dashed, it's a miracle of sorts to see you so much as smiling, let along sniffing your lover's pillow with a silly maiden's grin on your face. Do tell, Your Grace, does Little Pod really smell so sweet—like those lemoncakes you love so much perhaps?" Jaime teased her once again. Sansa's smile turned into a glower and her cheeks reddened. "You just love to ruin everything, don't you? And to think I thought we were having a pleasant heart to heart!" She shouted.

Jaime scoffed at the very notion of a "heart to heart", but still apologized to his young queen, though he still used her title like some sort of teasing pet name. Sansa deliberated sending him away to go goad Brienne or one of the guardsmen in her stead, but in the end decided that would be cruel. "You seem to be in a good mood today if all the ribbing and laughter is any indication. What happened? You and Brienne have a particularly exhilarating sparring match this morning?" She asked, hoping to steer the topic towards something that wouldn't make her go red or give Jaime means to taunt her.

Jaime shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps…perhaps not." He said dispassionately. Sansa arched a brow. "Someone's being secretive. Please do tell, Jaime." She insisted, using his name for emphasis. Jaime grinned wickedly; Sansa immediately regretted her curiosity. "If you _must _know, Sansa, my good mood has everything to do with Podrick's return. He'll be back before sundown, as you recall." Sansa did. She had been counting the days until his return from the Westerlands, growing more eager and anxious with each passing day.

Sansa gave Jaime a stern look. "You are a cruel one, Jaime Lannister. You just cannot wait to sink your teeth into him, can you?" She said, and Jaime simply smiled innocently and shrugged his armored shoulders, as if he couldn't help the matter even if he tried. "I wish there was a way to immortalize the face he'll make for the rest of my days." He lamented. "I want to be able to laugh at it and show it to future generations for years to come." Sansa supposed then that a lion could leave his pride all he wanted, but he'd never stop being a lion, and he'd never lose his claws or teeth. Or in this case, his mean sense of humor.

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><p>Podrick and his small retinue arrived an hour before the feast in Alec's honor was due to begin. There was no great fanfare at the young, loyal knight's arrival home, but there were still smiles aplenty. Podrick was a kind enough spirit, whose loyalty and bravery were well known at court as well as other parts of the continent, and the servants, guardsmen, highborns, and the rest of the like at Winterfell received him with soft smiles and quiet well wishes as he passed them on his way to his Queen's chambers.<p>

He knocked twice and the door opened. Podrick's smile faltered at the sight of Jaime. He was hoping to see Sansa alone for at least a moment; he'd been gone two moons and he truly missed her. "Pod," Jaime greeted him. "Ser Jaime," Pod replied. The Head of the Royal Guard opened the door wider, letting Pod through. Sansa was sprawled out on her bed, fast asleep with tousled hair. Pod smiled; she looked so innocent and content, something rare to see in her when she was awake, when something always seemed to be troubling her, whether it be the state of her kingdoms or the wellbeing of her wards.

"Well?" Jaime asked.

"I don't want to wake her." Podrick answered.

"Sadly, she'll have to wake sometime. The feast is in less than an hour, and I'm sure she'll want to do something about that hair beforehand." Podrick nodded, understanding he was right, they needed to wake her. He crossed the distance between the door and the bed with a few strides and leaned down to gently shake her awake.

Sansa's eyes opened slowly as she emitted a low, whining groan. "Jaime, just tell them I still feel ill…" She grumbled, closing her eyes again. Podrick hesitated to shake her once more, but he did so anyways because a selfish part of him decided he couldn't wait to speak to her, to kiss her, to embrace her another moment. He shook her shoulder twice more, and with another groan, Sansa sat up and opened her eyes. They lit up at the sight of him.

"Podrick," She said sleepily, reaching out to take his hand with a soft smile. "You're home." He nodded shyly, feeling himself flush. "That I am, Sansa." Sansa looked over his shoulder and gave a nod. Jaime must not have done what Sansa wanted, because the next second her mouth formed a stern line and her eyes narrowed at the head of her guard. The second after that, anger flashed in her blue eyes and she pointed at the door insistently. Pod heard Jaime heave a sigh and exit the chamber. Sansa smiled triumphantly and looked back at Podrick. She pressed her lips to his; he returned the gesture enthusiastically.

"How was your trip?" She asked, pulling away. Podrick shrugged his aching shoulders. "Boring. Lots of rough riding, from dawn to dusk. We stopped at a few inns and taverns at night, but most of the time we slept in tents under the night sky because there weren't that many along the roads. Not anymore." He said sadly. "Once we got to Coffersridge, we stayed in the holdfast of the main branch of House Payne. My relatives, however, were quite cold, so the visit lasted only a fraction of what was previously planned. We left as soon as my grandmother was buried." Pod confessed. Sansa rubbed comforting circles in his back and pressed a kiss into his temple. "I'm sorry your trip wasn't what you hoped it would be. I know you were looking forward to going home." She whispered into his skin.

It was true; Pod had hoped it would have gone better. Perhaps he would be greeted with some respect, if not a small number of smiles. Cedric may have treated him like a servant, but he'd known other relatives during his boyhood, who'd treated him well enough even if they look down upon him for being half-lowborn. Like Gavan, Cedric's elder brother, who'd stick up for him when it came to Cedric's treatment of him, citing the fact he was a Payne as reason enough to be good to him, and his cousin Myriad Hill, a bastard, had never been anything but kind. Now, however, they all gave him the cold shoulder, to say the least. He had been a fool to expect even a morsel of forgiveness from them. He was lucky they hadn't disinherited him or turned him over to the Lannisters. Some of them surely still wanted their revenge for his part in their downfall. Some torture would have soothed their anger, and the Payne's would have received some sort of reward for their gift. Pod was certain the only reason he returned to Winterfell in one piece was because they all knew that if they did betray him, kill him, or worse, they'd have Sansa's wrath upon them.

"It's alright," Podrick mumbled. He then turned to his queen, smiling, and asked, "Now tell, what have I missed?" Sansa stared off for a moment, humming thoughtfully. "Well, the bitches down in the kennel whelped. Ten pups between the three of them, but there were sixteen to begin with. You should see them. They're darling little things. Let's see, what else? Oh, I finally finished negotiations with the Princess of Dorne. In a moon's time, her cousins will arrive to be fostered until they are old enough to wed Rickon and Robert." She announced. Podrick felt a pang of sympathy for the Dornish girls. He himself has grown up in the moderate climate of the Westerlands; the cold had never suited him. He could only imagine the difference between the Dornish heat and the cold of the North. "I hope you warned the Princess the girls will need whole new wardrobes. Nothing from Dorne will be suitable up here." He remarked. Sansa gave him a look. "Podrick, after how you shivered when you first came here, I would never forget such a thing." Podrick flushed and nodded. "Of course…Did anything else happen?" He asked.

Sansa visibly thought things over a moment and shook her head. "Nothing especially interesting." She said. Podrick frowned at her lie. "Oh, so a new suitor no longer constitutes interesting?" He asked. Sansa sighed. "Podrick, we've spoken about this…" Podrick shook his head at her. "No, Sansa, you_ told _me that you never planned to marry again, but…" He swallowed. "I feel you should reconsider your position on the matter, for your own sake and the sake of your kingdoms." Sansa regarded him coolly and pulled away, positioning herself on the other side of the bed with crossed arms.

"I will not." She declared.

"Why not?" Podrick asked heatedly. He didn't mean to get frustrated so easily, but when it came to such serious matters, a ruler shouldn't be so stubborn. They needed to be open-minded, lest their obstinacy be their downfall. Sansa's eyes hardened. "I don't want to happen all over again." She answered gravely. Podrick reeled back. "But it wouldn't be like last time." He tried to argue. Sansa shook her head vehemently at him as she stood. "It would. Because just like last time, it would all be for my lands and titles and power, and I'd be expected to spend the rest of my days by the side of a man I hardly know, bear his children, and I'd just be used again as a tool, a means to an end, all over again."

Podrick stood and rounded the bed. He tried to take her into his arms, but she turned away. Not angrily; more sadly. "I know you just want the best for me, Pod, but what I have now is the best I'll ever have in this life. Trust me." She whispered. "But you're settling for so little." Podrick objected, his voice strained. Sansa looked back at him while rolling her eyes. She smiled fondly at him, as if he'd just done something incredibly silly. "Perhaps, but it's been a long time since I've wanted something splendorous, Pod." She said.

"But why won't you even try to fall in love with one them?" Pod pressed. "If you fall for one of those suitors, if one of them could fall for you as well, you could have so much more." Pod felt something crack within him. "You wouldn't have to have some outcast knight as a lover. You could love someone before the eyes of the entire world and bear no shame and without risking all you've fought for. You could have children for Seven's Sake.!" He shouted, voice cracking.

A second later, he felt Sansa wrap her arms around him. She squeezed him as tightly as she could with her slender arms and his mail and leather covered torso. A hand traced up his spine and his neck, tangling in his hair and pushing his head gently into the crook of her neck. Podrick returned the embrace readily. He felt Sansa's soft lips at his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin.

"Who told you I couldn't have children, Pod?" She questioned in a voice so quiet it wasn't even a whisper but still laden with more mischief than any imp that ever lied possessed in their entire body. Podrick recoiled from his lover with wide eyes, meeting her blue ones with shock as she smiled at him. "I, are you…are you…?" He couldn't quite spit it out. He felt like a boy again; he hadn't been this befuddled speaking to Sansa since the early days of their friendship. Sansa's smile broadened. "Yes, Pod." She answered, grinning. Podrick felt faint. "I thought you wouldn't. Not conceive. I mean keep it. If we conceived one that it." His face felt very warm as he took a deep breath. "What I mean to say is…I never doubted it could happen by chance thanks to our... activities, I just thought…"

"That I wouldn't allow it to happen?" Sansa offered. Podrick nodded solemnly.

"I thought, because you're the Queen, because we could never wed, that children, bastards, would be something that you couldn't risk." He mumbled.

"Podrick," Sansa said, pressing a kiss to Podrick's lips. "I know you're my sworn shield and you have a job to do, that you have my best interests in mind, but there is _nothing _that would make me happier than to bear your child. Bastard or not."

"But…wouldn't you be happier with trueborn children…by a husband you wed in the sight of the gods and are bound to for the rest of your days, rather than a lover you may tire of later?" He asked hesitantly. Sansa frowned at him.

"Pod, you and I are already bound together for the rest of our days…by a different sort of vows, but vows nonetheless no weaker than the vows of marriage. Don't you remember?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

"Remember?" Pod repeated dumbly.

"That day we played in that snowy clearing. We had just made it out of the mountains and everyone was setting up camp…We were supposed to be looking for firewood when we found that clearing. It was beautiful, all white and untouched by not even a stag's hoof. I hesitated to throw that first snowball at you because I didn't want to ruin it, but in the end your snow-covered stunned expression was worth it. Things quickly escalated into an all out war."

"We had to call a truce because neither one of us would be the first to relent," Podrick recalled fondly. Sansa nodded.

"And afterwards, we played a little game of pretend. I made myself a crown out of twigs and you buffed out your chest as far as it would go, attempting to play the gallant knight to my noble queen. You swore your sword to me then, playfully at first, as we were playing at the moment…But then, when our giggles passed, you looked me in the eyes earnestly and did it again. You said you would gladly serve a woman as noble and kind and intelligent as I for the rest of your days." Sansa smiled at the nostalgia, as did Podrick.

"And you swore in return to be a queen worthy of the devotion of such a loyal, sweet, and brave man." He muttered embarrassedly.

"Those were our vows, Pod." Sansa said. "They aren't the vows of a husband and wife, but for me, they're just as good." She kissed his cheek and embraced him once again. Podrick returned the gesture wholeheartedly.

"I'm coming in!" A familiar voice shouted as the chamber door opened abruptly. The pair sprang apart as their eyes flew over to the door, their cheeks stained red. Jaime grinned wickedly at the two of them, knowing he had interrupted something. He looked between the two quickly, smiling with satisfaction at the sight of Podrick's flushed features. "Did you reduce him to a blathering mess with your announcement?" He asked Sansa with a bit too much enthusiasm. Sansa hurled a pillow at the head of her guard's head.

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><p><strong>AN: To be honest, I don't know how I feel about this fic, so I'm just going to put it out there for you guys to review. Tell me what you think. **

**Thanks for reading!**


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